George Sand was a precocious French writer during the 19th century. However Sand was another person entirely. Born as Amantine Lucille Aurore Dupin to a French courtesan and Maurice Dupin, though she was raised by her grandmother on her estate of Nohant in the province of Berry. Married at eighteen to Casimir Dudevant she gave birth to two children, the second possibly not his, before she left for Paris to pursue her dreams, before legally separating from her husband four years later. There she became an accomplished writer, though she was forced to publish under the pseudonym she came to use in her daily life. She was equally well known for her ostentatious behavior which included dressing like a man, smoking cigars, several prominent affairs, one of which was rumored to be with a woman.

That description there was about as interesting as anything I read in the book. It was a slow, dull recitation of Sand's life, mostly focused on her love affairs, though without any emotional impact. Sand is a fascinating subject, with a wealth of material to draw upon. I cannot fathom how was possible to make this story so boring. My only guess is that the author was attempting to pace the book to match the era. Regardless of the reason, this book was a complete failure, which I found incredibly difficult to finish.

I have read other books by this author, books that I enjoyed greatly. I commend her effort to write this book as Sand is a fascinating person who lived an interesting life, but it is my suggestion that Berg stick to contemporary novels and leave the historical fiction to others. This book had little to offer in way of enjoyment, and I cannot say I recommend it at all.

***I received a galley of this novel in exchange for an honest review.***